


Point of No Return

by PinstripesAndConverse



Category: City of Love: Paris (Visual Novel)
Genre: A Path Divergence I Wish We Got, Alternate Universe, F/M, Hints at possible relationship, Not Actually Unrequited Love, What If The Main Character Joined Vincent?, inspired by Phantom of the Opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 15:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14047041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinstripesAndConverse/pseuds/PinstripesAndConverse
Summary: City of Love: Paris AU after Season 1, Episode 8 & 9. The MC gives in to Vincent’s offers, telling herself it’s in order to save Raphael and the city from the Essence, but her reasoning is not entirely selfless.  Heavily inspired by aspects of Phantom of the Opera.  MC is unnamed.  Rated T.





	Point of No Return

She wasn’t entirely sure  _why_ she’d asked for a meeting to be arranged.  Perhaps in hope of saving Raphael from himself, the poor man stuck under a spell he might never be free from.  Or something darker, disguised as selflessness, the lure of promises and desires.  Or perhaps still in stopping whatever madness could be created with the Essence of Love.

Raphael was forced to drink it straight from the source and he was gleeful and adoring and clingy and cliche for days now.  Worse yet, she couldn’t figure out if it was his genuine feelings for her manifesting themselves or if he had imprinted on her after the Essence.  Either way, it was horrible for the multiple people involved and utterly embarrassing for her and her boss.  No one deserved to experience this artifact’s power and the sooner it was out of Vincent Karm’s hands, the better.

The very thought of the man made her heart race, but with terror or something far more pleasant, she couldn’t tell.  She was drawn to the man behind the persona, behind the genius and the double entendres and calculated moves.  She’d faced powerful men and women before but never like this.  None of them made her blood burn in something that danced between fear and attraction like this.

She thumbed the USB drive in her hand, passwords and personal files from Raphael, coaxed out of him with eyelash batting and sweet nothings.  

Her bargaining chip.  Raphael could kill her if Vincent didn’t first.

That had been their arrangement.  Passwords, private information, in exchange for an antidote for Raphael and a place at his side.  Marion was running the magazine now, she wouldn’t have time to handle Vincent’s affairs.

To not take the opportunity would be foolish.

Resistance was pointless, especially when the enemy had the object they wanted, so she decided to give in.  Give in to the allure calling her name.

If she played the long game just right, she’d come out on top with an inside story to tell.  The truth mattered most of all and she would get it.

She had snuck away from Louise and Raphael to meet with whoever her contact was only to have a bag shoved over her head before she was lead to a car.  A car that brought her to a populated area before she was taken on-foot elsewhere.  Into a building, into a large industrial elevator, through cold corridors, past running water.

The bag was only taken off again when she was secured to a chair with her arms behind her and the flash-drive was wrenched from her fingers.

She gazed around the small space, dim and musty, but otherwise clean.  A table in the middle of the room was littered with beakers and tubes, papers covered in diagrams and formulas.  In the far right corner, a spiral staircase, a coat rack near it holding a familiar suit jacket.  In the back of the room, a subject room, mostly plants from what she could see.  Music played softly, classical, mostly strings and piano, coming from speakers placed around the room.

Vincent was focused on the laptop perched on top of a chest of tiny drawers, eyes scanning something.  She squinted and noticed the red flash drive attached to the computer.  His jacket wasn’t the only tailored thing he wore, and she wondered if even his shirts were cut to his own specifications.  It was a crime in itself he didn’t follow Raphael’s style a little more, she thought.

“This might be the second best thing you’ve handed me in less than a week, Ms. (l/n).  Impressive.”

His slight sarcasm was  _not_ appreciated.  

“But the question is: do you understand there’s no going back?  That you can only leave my service if I allow you to?”

She  _did_ understand, all too well, especially from what TJ told her.  But if it helped Raphael, if it helped  _Paris_ , she didn’t care.  

_Right, keep justifying it to yourself._ She thought bitterly.   _That’s only half the reason you’re here._

“As long as you hold up your end, I’ll hold up mine,” she replied, steeling herself and locking eyes with him.

He chuckled darkly.  “Oh, believe me, the pain Raphael will endure at the knowledge of your manipulation and betrayal is worth every drop.  And I’m a man of my word, Ms. (l/n).  He’ll recover just in time to witness my takeover of the city.”

Oh…why hadn’t she considered that?  The Essence only messed with someone’s ability to control themselves.  That their memories remained intact made…sense.

“People remember what happened, even though they’re not in control of themselves?” She asked, doing her best to mask her surprise.

“They most certainly do,” He was gleeful, almost ecstatic at her question.  “Every subject I tried it on remembered precisely what happened and with who.”

Vincent stepped back and opened a drawer, plucking a vial from within and then placing it in a small case off to the side.  “He’ll get it after seeing my press conference tomorrow, at which you will be present. And you get the honor of explaining what you’ve done in the name of saving him.”

His tone was definitive, leaving no room for arguing.  He scoffed at the glare she gave him; Raphael could be annoying, certainly, but she never wished him pain.  She  _had_ hoped he wouldn’t remember what she had just done.

“Don’t tell me you actually care for the pathetic sap,” Vincent said, returning his gaze to the computer screen, finding it far more interesting.

She might not reciprocate Raphael’s feelings but she didn’t hate him either.  Rather than step into his trap, she simply avoided the statement.

“Does this ever stop being a game to you?”  She retorted.

Twice, now, she had chosen him; surely that indicated her loyalties by now?

Maybe she did care about Raphael but not in the way Vincent thought she did. The awkward man was cute, endearing, but she couldn’t see herself with him.  The jealousy streak he had ran deep, considering he was jealous when they weren’t even dating. As if she were a prize to be kept locked away.

Vincent collected people too but he let them fly.  They just had their own guilt, their obligations, as their chain.  And he knew just how to reel them back in.

“It stopped being a game that night in the catacombs. Or perhaps when you stepped into my office,” he closed the distance between them as he spoke, his hands coming to rest on the arms of the chair, face inches from hers.  “You’re here because you  _want_ to be here, because in your  _head_ ,” his hand, icy cold from the temperature down here, reached to cup her cheek, forcing her to stay eye-level with him, “you’ve already given in.”

Damn him.  Damn him to all levels of hell and whatever else might exist beyond this world.  How could someone so cruel and malicious make her heart beat this fast, cause fire to run through her veins?

To say she hadn’t thought about it would be a lie.  She’d woken up in the middle of the night more than once with flushed skin and a burning pit in her stomach.  She could never remember the dreams in their entirety but she could recall fingers tracing down her side, breath on her neck, being stripped bare, limbs tangled.

She had never been one to give in to the offers laid before her by others but something about this was…different.  She  _wanted_ to, for once, be on the other side, see how the game was played.  Vincent challenged her.  And working against him only meant an end to what she desperately wanted, someone equal to her in other aspects.  She’d seen what others had to offer and none of them were as appealing as…being beside him.  Jail would only bore him and he would find a way to bend the rules to his will, as he had already done the same with most of Paris.

It was as if he could read her thoughts, his mouth close to hers as he whispered to her.

“So let go, (f/n).  I don’t play games with those I’m fond of.”  His voice was soft, but no less serious than it had been before.  His hand relaxed against her skin, his fingers ghosting over her cheek.  She felt his other hand reaching behind her near her waist

She closed her eyes, unable to hold his intense gaze any longer.  Her pulse was loud in her ears but she heard the distinct click of her handcuffs being undone.

_Vincent Karm, fond of_ anyone _?  Other than himself?  He’s either three steps ahead or he’s entirely serious…_

Her pulse quickened even more at the thought that she wasn’t the only one affected by the other night.  Of someone as powerful as Vincent being undone by a mere  _human_  desire.  Hedonist though he allegedly was.

She couldn’t find the words to reply, to verbally spar with him as she usually did.  Words ran dry but, noticing he had yet to pull away, she realized she didn’t need them.  Her hands were, she discovered, entirely free, and she moved them to her lap.

She tilted her head a little further and closed the distance between them, his lips warm against hers.  They parted after what felt like an eternity, Vincent’s eyes a little wider than before.

His gaze narrowed as he smirked down at her, his one hand still gripping the narrow arm of the chair.  It wasn’t disbelief in his features but rather a reminder of who she was dealing with.  That he was not a man to tease or trifle with lightly.  That he meant every word he ever said.  

That he would not tolerate his own emotions to be manipulated for someone else’s gain.

Perhaps she was fond of him, too.  She wondered if he ever considered that.

“I meant what I said. Our game is over,” he whispered, pulling away to stand up and move back to whatever he had been planning to accomplish that evening.  

Before he had a chance to stand straight, her hand found his tie.  He could break free if he wanted to, she had loosened her grip after he bent back down to his previous position.  Part of her felt sorry for the possible backache standing like that caused him-being tall had its burdens-but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word.

“Who says I’m playing?” She whispered, holding back the smile that would usually grace her lips when she flirted.

Her eyes darted to his lips again, hot breath mingling in the ever-lasting few seconds that passed in absolute silence.  

She wasn’t sure who initiated the second kiss.  It was more certain than the first, although just as cautious.  She felt one of his hands return to her cheek, caressing her skin before moving to tangle itself in her hair and angle her head back a little more, eliciting a gasp from her at the touch.  He made a satisfied hum at her reaction before deepening the kiss. She tasted remnants from the wine he likely had with dinner or dessert, the slight tang of raspberries lingering as their tongues mingled.  

She felt her hand slip from his tie as they continued, her limbs heavy as she lost all focus on everything except him.  She could smell his cologne, a subtle mix of floral and musk, vanilla…and something woodsy.  She’d never smelled it before, only when she had first walked into his office…or when she had fixed his tie.  Intoxicating, much like his personality.

Their kisses slowed, her mind foggy as his tongue brushed hers again, as if memorizing the sensation.  He pulled away, standing straight without hindrance and fixing his tie as he looked at her. Her lips felt swollen, tingling, still feeling his lips on hers.  She blinked, dazed, holding his gaze for a moment before he turned his back on her and resumed whatever work he had been doing before her arrival.

Her body felt heavy and yet…so light.  The world around her seemed to spin for a moment.

Had he given her the Essence when she wasn’t looking?

An expectant question hung in the air, one her tongue wanted to articulate but was too heavy to.  He was surprisingly unflappable for someone who had just kissed her in such a manner.  Vincent was able to switch so quickly between two very different things, as if it were second nature to him.  Not to mention his single-mindedness to finishing what he started, to getting what he wanted.  

He already had her on his side.  For now, that allowed him to refocus on other things, she mused.  

“Business before pleasure,  _ma cherie_.  Final details don’t sort themselves out,” he said, eyes wandering over the table until he found the paper he was looking for.  “You can go, if you wish.”

She didn’t want to.  Leaving meant covering up her tracks, coming up with lies about tomorrow, why she’d be going to Versailles, coming up with reasons to slip away.

So she stayed and watched him work until her eyes grew heavy, until they fell of their own accord.  When she woke, she found herself on a leather chaise wrapped in a light blanket, in a small sitting room.  The only light came from the stairwell across the room, bleeding into the shadows.  She heard soft sounds below her, clinking of glass, thoughtful murmurs she couldn’t translate entirely.  A quick check of her phone told her it was early morning; she had several unread messages and calls she would deal with later.

Standing, she adjusted the blanket and quietly made her way down the spiral staircase, careful not to intrude on whatever work Vincent was still doing.  She stayed on the second-to-last stair, watching him as she had hours earlier.

He glanced up at her and then checked his watch, frowning at the time.  Vincent scribbled something down in a journal on the table, closed it, and locked it in one of the many drawers in the lab before turning to her again.

“Come, you have to return to your friends before they begin to question your absence.  No doubt that fool Laurent will be missing you, at the very least.”


End file.
